Blind Sided
by chrissymi
Summary: Tag to 7.02 and 7.03. So I was wondering just how did Dean end up with the injuries to his face? They weren't there after 7.02, but when he wakes up in the hospital in 7.03  his face is bruised and grazed. So what happened? Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_BLIND SIDED_

_Tag to 7.02 Hello Cruel World and 7.03 The Girl Next Door. _

_So I was wondering – as I'm sure most fans did – just how did Dean end up with the injuries to his face? They weren't there after the Leviathan decked him, or in the ambulance in 'Hello Cruel World'. But when he wakes up in the hospital in 'The Girl next door' his face is sporting a couple of lacerations and bruises… so where did they come from? _

_From what I have garnered the episodes were filmed out of order (so that Jensen could direct) which probably accounts for the oversight. But I'd like to opt for a missing scene (or two) and another scuffle rather than poor continuity checking. So here's my take…_

_Warnings for explicit language._

_Pretty much just spoilers for these episodes only and maybe 7.01._

Dean knew as soon as the shotgun ripped half its skull off that it was a Leviathan or whatever the hell the' big-mouthed, black-goo-oozing creatures' were – which was something of a problem: blasting half its head off barely had any effect on it. Certainly pissed it off though, judging by its ferocious growl and gapping, freaking, piranha-mouthed, snake-tongued snarl. And it was a strong son of a bitch too. It swatted Dean's shotgun away like an annoying fly and securely fisted its huge hands in his jacket lapels, then it picked him up and tossed him several meters into the air. Dean crash landed onto a beat-up, old car wreck and none too gracefully. The windscreen shattered on impact and then with the force of his momentum he bounced right off the bonnet. Instinctually he shot his leg out to break his fall. Only it wasn't his fall that broke. As his foot slammed into the ground, his boot wedged beneath the edge of the tire, and with his uncontrolled impetus he did a twist and turn all at once, in a way his leg definitely wasn't supposed to bend. The explosion of pain that accompanied the audible crack was sooooo not good!

He couldn't quite grasp just how some guy – some_ thing_ – with bad breath and in need of some serious dental work, had got the better of him. He had, after all, been tossed a million times before. He should have had the whole deal down pat by now – relax, tuck and roll. Not this time. And in front of Sam – who he'd been trying to save, no less. Bang up job he did of that! And man his leg hurt – seriously hurt.

He dragged himself away from the Leviathan, and shit yeah, his leg fucking hurt! Team that with the odd angle his lower leg now jutted out at and the fact that he couldn't actually move it, not without a shit load of pain, probably meant their Winchester Luck was in full swing – which pretty much meant that things were totally FUBARed! And was that blood on his jeans' leg? Of course it was! Things were going from bloody bad to freaking worse. If he had to add two and two together the only answer he could deduce right now was that he was seriously screwed! Everything pointed to the fact that he'd busted his leg, and it wasn't going to be a pretty sight…

The sound of Sam's fist smacking the guy in the jaw snapped Dean's attention back to the ensuing battle. The Leviathan had been duly decked by Sam's blow, and for whatever reason Sam was now star gazing, or the like. Dean couldn't help but follow Sam's stare upwards, to the Ford Maverick hanging mid-air on a car hoist… and immediately above the creature. Strange how in his pain induced perception he happened to recall standing in the exact same spot a few days ago, speaking to Bobby, whilst his pseudo father had hoisted the damned car up there. Suddenly everything seemed to fall into place and Dean's head whipped around to the bonnet of the car beside which he lay, and sure enough, Bobby had left the controls there.

As he hauled his lame ass across the gravel, Sam obviously had the same notion, "Dean, now!"

However before he could drop the car the Leviathan made it back up onto its feet again, grabbing a crowbar off the ground. Dean punched the release button on the hoist controls and watched as the Maverick seemed to drop in slow motion. Whilst time stood still the Leviathan swung the crowbar at Sam like a baseball bat…

Dean couldn't believe his eyes when the car bulls eyed the creature, reducing it to not much more than a black, gooey puddle beneath the smashed car carcass.

But Sam had gone down hard too, probably didn't even know what hit him – he'd gone down like a lead balloon – only now he wasn't making any attempt to get back up again.

"Arggg… ahhh… " Dean dragged himself to Sam's side, "Sam?" He shook his brother's shoulder, however he did not get a response from his unconscious brother. Sam was definitely down for the count. Still it couldn't hurt to try. "Sammy? Hey come on now… come on. I'm the one with the broken leg, you gotta carry me… Sam!" And still he got no response, not even a murmur or a moan – nothing.

Dean started to panic – just a little… ok, maybe a shit load – after all, there was a Leviathan pancaked under a car oozing black goo everywhere, Sam was out cold, and he was freaking hobbled by a busted leg. Plus he had no idea if the Leviathan had brought a friend, or two. What was worse was that not only did Sam remain unresponsive, but he had blood trickling from his ear and even Dean knew the seriousness of that. Sam was hurt, and hurt bad. Sure he had a pretty hard head, Dean knew from experience that Sam could take a blow like a prize fighter, but this time… well it just wasn't good. Hell, neither of them were. They were both screwed, and there was no way either of them were getting out of this under their own steam. He wasn't entirely sure what he should do – he had no one he could call to get them out of the current shit they were both in. Pretty much everyone they'd ever relied on, were gone… their dad, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Rufus… they were all gone - the 'dead' kind of gone. Even Cas was gone, or maybe he was dead too, and now Bobby… Bobby was… not dead, just gone. Bobby couldn't be dead too, even though he was supposed to be there, even though he didn't answer his cell, even though there was nothing left of his house but a burnt out shell… Bobby just couldn't be… dead…

Dean had to admit defeat: the situation required seriously drastic actions. As much as he hated the notion he had no other option…

"Agghhrr…" Dean rummaged through his jacket pocket until he felt the familiar shape of his cell phone. A few seconds later he had made his 911 call. The operator had asked him to stay on the line, however Dean knew he had more pressing issues to deals with – like getting Sam somewhere safer, which was well away from the squashed leviathan. All that could be seen of it was an arm – a very human looking arm – that could only be attached to an extremely squashed body that disappeared beneath the wrecked car, surrounded, not by blood, but by a pool of black goo. Had it not been for the black, gooey bodily fluids oozing out of their attacker Dean could probably have pointed the finger at the '_man'_ as the culprit who had torched Bobby's house and then came after them. But as it was there was already way too much explaining to do – what with a cinder box being all that remained of Bobby's place, and them both busted up – but how the hell do you make a squished monster in human disguise and black goo sound perfectly normal? And worse, he had no idea if gravity and a car was enough to stop the thing, not when a face full of shot pellets only managed to piss the thing off. And he didn't know if there were any more Big-Mouths lurking around. Somehow he had to get them both away from the 'Leviathan verses car' impact site.

"Sammy? Come on," Dean persisted to no avail. "Please Sam, open your eyes, wake up." Still Sam did not stir, and that couldn't be good. The longer Sam was out the greater the odds that Sam's injuries were serious. And Sam had to be ok, he just had to be, because Dean couldn't lose Sam too! His heart was beating like a piston, in total trepidation: Saw was really hurt, the kind of hurt that he probably couldn't fix. And right now he had to get his brother to a safe place, well away from the Leviathan. "Shit, Sam. You're gonna make me do this the hard way, aren't you?"

Dean hauled himself forwards, until he was an arm's length away from Sam, wincing as his leg dragged along behind him. He hissed in agony when his boot caught on the gravel beneath him, tugging on his foot and sending another blast of pain shooting up his leg, but he knew the pain would certainly get worse, way worse, once the adrenalin wore off. He pushed the torturous pain from his thoughts, concentrating on the arduous task at hand. He had to get them both to a location where the Leviathan was out of sight. And he had to do it fast, because as best as he could figure the ambulance would take about 20 minutes. Singer's Salvage Yard was an ace spot to hide away in, miles from anybody really and perfect for your mild-mannered monster hunter. But lying on the outskirts of town sure sucked at times, like now when Sam was obviously critically injured and when a bottle full of pain killers and a real doctor would be nice. Dean just had to hope that no one was dying. But, given the fact that he was acutely mobility-challenged at the moment, it would hopefully give him time to drag his sasquatch brother somewhere safer. At least he'd have to try.

Dean gripped a fistful of Sam's jacket in one hand and then dragged his brother towards himself. Then he hauled himself a foot or so further along. Then he tugged Sam towards himself again and repeated the whole grueling task again, and again, and again…

Sam didn't stir once. He didn't moan or complain. He didn't wake up and bitch about having his ass dragged clear across the salvage yard. Didn't grouse Dean out for attempting the monumental task with a busted leg. He didn't do anything. And Bobby still hadn't called, or turned up. Dean had to focus on his task to keep himself from breaking down into a blubbering heap of despair. When the pain exploded into an unbearable agony every time his foot caught on the gravel or his leg twisted the wrong way, he used the pain to compel himself forward. Nothing else existed, but his task: his duty to save and protect Sam. Time dissolved and lost all sense of measure, the task and the agony melting into one endless challenge until finally he heard them…

By the time the sound of the ambulance sirens broke through his resolute trance he'd managed to lug Sam's still freaking-out-cold-ass some fifty meters away, around behind one of Bobby's wall of cars, back towards what was left of the house, and well out of sight of the Leviathan. He was hopeful that he had managed to avoid any reason to have to explain exactly what had happened. As soon as he stopped his quest, however, his neglected, antagonized injury paid out on him. The retribution was a blinding wave of pain that exploded up his leg demanding his entire attention. The pain was so overwhelming that the world started tilting all askew and his sight began to blur. Dean struggled to keep himself conscious. And he was going to puke for sure with the intense, throbbing agony that pulsed up his wounded leg. But somebody had to keep an eye on Sam, and that had been his job since he'd been four years old. _'Breathe_' he told himself, _'just breathe'._ He lay panting by Sam's side when the paramedics finally came jogging up to them.

"Hey there, you call for an ambulance?" the 'Captain-Freaking-Obvious' paramedic actually asked. Dean figured that the fact that two grown men were lying on the ground in the middle of a salvage yard may have been some clue. And his unconscious, and bleeding brother should have clinched it for him, but what the hell, if the guy wasn't sure…

"Ya think? We're bloody well not here waiting for Halley's Comet!" Dean could have decked the guy for his stupid, freaking query, if only he could get himself upright. Ok, so maybe it was the pain making him a tad surly, _but come on!_ "It's my brother, Sam, he's out cold… I can't wake him."

"Ok, then. You wanna move back, give us some room, so we can take a look at him," the paramedic asked Dean, practically planting his massive Emergency Kit on top of him in reprisal for the snide remark. Dean's pain-wracked wince went unnoticed by the EMTs who had all their focus on Sam.

One of the paramedics flipped the kit open and within seconds the two men began checking Sam's vital signs.

"My name's Steve, this is Trent, and your brother's name is Sam, right, but what's yours?" one of the EMTs asked him over his shoulder.

"Umm…" _what the hell was the name on their latest medical insurance?_ "Dean. Dean Bono."

"So, Dean, you want to tell us what happened?" Steve queried as the other EMT checked Sam's pupils with a pen light. Dean was thunderstruck by the EMT's expression and could only suspect the paramedic's frown and dejected sigh meant bad news. "Hey Dean? Can you tell me what happened?" Steve asked him again.

Dean hadn't actually been lucid enough to think of a convincing cover story as yet, working his way through his own pain and panic taking precedent over all other cognitive thoughts. But he realized that having as much information about the circumstances of what had happened would help them treat their patient and give them a better understanding of the possible nature of Sam's injuries.

"To Sam?" Dean's attention snapped immediately back to the paramedic's query as his mind worked overtime to formulate a credible account.

"Yeah, what happened to your brother?" Steve replied.

"He got hit," Dean muttered back.

"With what?" Captain Obvious – Trent – asked over his shoulder acerbically, not even looking at Dean as he took out an oxygen mask and began placing it over Sam's mouth.

"Ummm… with a crowbar, I think," Dean replied on impulse, without really having thought of a suitable explanation. His brain functions were seriously befuddled by exhaustion and pain and his response was blurted out before he really had time to consider something a little less truthful.

"A crowbar? The hell? Someone hit him?" Steve gave him a questioning glare, pausing his ministrations to concentrate on Dean's story. The other paramedic began to listen to his account as well, giving Dean a condemning glare. Dean suspected that his first thought, seeing as there was no one else around, was that it had been Dean who had attacked Sam. "What the hell happened?"

"Was a guy," Dean replied, he usually did pretty well with lying on the fly, he just wasn't sure where this tale would end up, "he attacked us."

"Where is he now, this guy who attacked your brother?" Steve looked nervous, giving their surroundings an examining stare, probably still expecting the assailant to come jumping out at them from behind the labyrinth of wrecked cars. It had the EMT worried – if there was an attacker with a weapon on the loose they could all be in danger.

"Gone," Dean lied like a trooper, not going into any further details, not until he could think of any at least. "He's long gone." _Squished like a bug actually…_

"And the house, over there? It have anything to do with you two, or the guy who attacked your brother?" Trent motioned to what remained of Bobby's home, now a smoldering shell.

"Huh?" Dean had almost forgotten about Bobby's place. "Oh, hell. Bobby!"

"Bobby?" Steve queried, trying to piece the story together from Dean's blubbering. "The guy's name was Bobby? He set the place alight and hit your brother?"

"What? No!" Dean snapped back. "No, it's umm, it's Bobby's house," he sighed.

"And where is he? Where's Bobby?" Steve probed.

"I don't know. Don't know where he is," Dean admitted, letting a grimace of pain slip past him. His head was starting to throb, along with his leg and his side and his back and… crap, he hurt all over! And just thinking about what may have become of his pseudo father only compounded his agony. The very thought of Bobby being incinerated somewhere in the now burnt out shell of his house terrified him, "he wouldn't answer his cell…"

"Ok," Steve paused whilst trying to get the story straight in his head, "so that's Bobby's house, only Bobby's missing? And some guy attacked your brother. But how'd the house get torched?" The paramedic seemed extremely anxious, what with the possibility of both an arsonist and an attacker on the loose.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, "it must have been the same guy who attacked us."

"We're gonna have to call it in," Trent said quietly to Steve before he turned away, his attention returning back to Sam. Trent wanted to be out of there, and fast, and not just for the sake of his still unconscious patient.

"What?" Dean arched up, grabbing a hold of Steve's sleeve, "Call who?" He imagined the worst suddenly – that these two were also Leviathan. However logic kicked in and he realized that if they were, neither he nor Sam would still be breathing.

"It's ok. We're just going to give the local PD a call," Steve informed him, releasing Dean's grip. "See if they can find this Bobby guy."

"Police?" Dean started to panic. In his line of work the local law was never an ally. In fact they were usually chasing his tail for some kind of infringement or another. Damn it, he'd caused this, said too much. If only he was thinking straight. "Why? We didn't…"

"I'm not saying you guys did anything, but your brother has been attacked, this friend of yours is missing and his house has been burned down," Steve explained, "We've really gotta notify the authorities."

"Oh?" Suddenly Dean felt as if the world was caving in around him. Everything had gone completely sour! Fucking Winchester Luck, it figured: of course the EMTs wanted to call in the police… and it was no surprise that Sam was out for the count… and naturally he was all busted up… and Bobby… shit, bloody Bobby… not only was his house a pile of ash, but Bobby was gone! And why the hell not, freaking Cas was! Why the hell should he have anyone left in this god forsaken world? Not when there were organ-eating, shapeshifting Leviathan roaming the streets…

Could things get any more fucked up, seriously? And he couldn't do a damned thing about any of it. He was freaking useless. Everything was already screwed to hell, the last thing they needed was the police stirring things up as well.

"Sherriff Mills," Dean muttered. He obviously wasn't getting around the police being called in.

"Huh?"

"She knows Bobby," Dean explained, "call Sherriff Jodie Mills," _because she knew exactly what they did and how important it was that things be handled under the radar. _"Can you call her?" Dean wasn't quite lucid enough to recall that Sheriff Jodie Mills had only just been sprung from Sioux Falls General by Bobby, after having an appendectomy. She was the whole reason they'd all split up, and the whole reason they knew something was up at the hospital. If only he'd have considered the fact then and there he may have been able to spare himself and Sam a few problems later on. But Dean's only thought at the moment was to ensure Sam was safe.

"Ok, ok, I'll see if we can get in contact with her." Steve nodded, reaching for his two-way radio, however before he could relay anything in to his dispatcher Sam started to come around.

As far as Dean could tell, Lucifer was playing havoc with Sam's reality again. Sam began dragging himself away from the paramedic, panting in terror so much he was practically hyperventilating. "No, no, you're not here! Leave me alone you asshat!" Sam yelled, flinching every time the EMT tried to lay a hand on him."Fuck off, you son-of-a-bitch!"

"It's ok, Sam," Dean called out to his brother, hoping to ground him back into reality. Last thing they needed was Sam blabbering about Lucifer and hell, or the leviathan. Sam probably had enough problems right now without everyone thinking he was some sort of loony psychopath. "Sam, I'm here, calm down, it's ok!"

"Leave me alone! You're not real… you're not!" Sam screamed.

"It's ok, Sam. I'm here, it's me, Dean!" he called to him desperately.

"Hey Dean, is there anything we need to know about Sam?" Steve queried, looking exactly like he thought Sam really was a loony psychopath. "Any medical conditions, mental problems, previous ailments, allergies, especially to medication?"

"He's not crazy!" Dean immediately replied, "he's just confused, it must be the blow to the head."

"Yeah probably," Steve appeased him, but still did not look any more convinced. "Any problems with any medications?" he asked again. Both paramedics glared at him, waiting impatiently for a reply. "Dean?"

"What? Umm." Dean had to think for a moment. He was pretty sure they'd tried every damned drug known to mankind at some time or another – and some not so well known (and totally medieval) – without any serious side effects. Maybe there had been some projectile vomiting, weird hallucinations, and there was some weird itching once and a week-long coma-like thing, but that was all from hoodoo, witchcrafty stuff, and Samuel's vampire cure – nothing these guys were likely to carry. "Umm, no," Dean eventually replied.

"Ok, good." Steve muttered something to Trent, who nodded in agreement with whatever was said.

"You're in the cage, you asshole!" Sam maneuvered out of Trent's grasp and was likely to be back on his feet in an instance – head trauma or not. "I put you back in the pit!" The younger Winchester was about to unleash his inner hunter survival instincts on the two unsuspecting paramedics and it wouldn't be pretty!

Dean had to get back to Sam. His delusional baby brother was looking like he was ready to outright kill the EMTs with his bare hands. Dean realized he had to calm Sam down, and now, before his little brother went entirely postal. Because he was the only one who could stop him.

"Ok Sam, everything's gonna be just fine," Steve muttered, catching Sam's fists before he could take a swipe at either EMT, however Sam continued struggling to free himself from his firm grip with red-blooded murder in his gaze. Dean was pretty sure Trent was trying to inject the delusional hunter with something, only the endeavor didn't go down so well for the EMT. Sam threw a hefty right hook at Trent, and the syringe and Trent were sent flying. Steve pounce on Sam, somehow managing to pin him down, probably only because Sam was injured. Chances were it wouldn't last for long.

Dean knew he had to get himself to Sam's side, somehow, before another ambulance was needed, or worse, a coroner. However getting to Sam required him to have to shift his leg and squirm around and when he attempted the task the maneuver didn't fair too well with his throbbing limb. As he pushed himself backwards, his injured leg shifted in entirely the wrong way and he cried out in agony with the sudden shock of pain, a sensation almost forgotten amid his concerns for Sam. In that brief instance, pain, _pain_, PAIN exploded into his being and overwhelmed all other thoughts and sensations. Dean cried out in agony, clutching at his knee, just above the site of the intense stabbing ache, trying desperately to stave away the looming sense of oblivion.

He failed…

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, so I forgot to put in a disclaimer... (again)

**But seriously, if I owned them there is absolutely no way, no how, I'd be spending my time writing… anything… at all! ****EVER! ****Sam and Dean all mine... Honestly, I would have WAY better things to do with my time! ****(Imagination starts to wander…) **

**But here I am… (SIGH!) so, obviously I don't own anything Kripke has created (except the DVDs). **

**All things Kripke, now belong to Gamble; including the Winchester brothers, all Supernatural characters, the Leviathan, Bobby and even the Impala. I'm just going to borrow them for a while, perhaps have my evil way with them… then I guess I'll have to give them back.**

Anyway, on with the story... I hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>The darkness parted reluctantly, clinging to his consciousness like tar. Dean forced his eyes open and blinked with confusion.<p>

_"Hey, are you ok? Dean are you hurt too?"_

Someone was speaking to him.

Dean fought away the searing stab of pain shooting up his leg and the lingering haze of nothingness to gaze upon the source of the words. He finally found Steve looking down on him. He realized that maybe he had lost a minute or two to unconsciousness, because somehow the EMT had moved to his side, and now had his hand firmly placed on his shoulder to prevent him from trying to move again. Dean didn't answer him, instead he batted Steve's hand away and raised himself up onto one elbow to examine his surroundings in an attempt to recall what had happened.

"The hell?" He wasn't entirely sure why he'd checked out, but the memory of their dire situation came back instantly; a Leviathan had attacked Sam - had attacked the both of them. And Dean couldn't afford to leave them exposed to the Leviathan again, should there be another one lurking somewhere in the shadows. He certainly couldn't afford to pass out again. His scrutinizing gaze instantly fixed back on Sam - his one constant; Sam whom he'd always relied on and who was now about as stable as out-of-date nitro glycerin. Sam was unconscious again – and Dean wondered if he'd imagined Sam waking up at all because he was still definitely out cold. And he was looking deathly pale in the moonlight. The EMT taking Sam's blood pressure looked concerned, and was checking his pupils once again. Dean couldn't help but speculate that something was seriously wrong.

"Is he ok?" Dean demanded to know, clamping his fist around Steve's jacket sleeve to steady himself. "Sammy? Is he ok?"

"Don't worry, Trent's seeing to your brother," the EMT reassured him, knowing that now that Sam was once again unconscious, his partner could tend to their patient without his assistance. "But, Dean, how about you. Are you hurt too?" They weren't expecting two patients, dispatch had only mentioned one casualty. Steve scolded himself for not putting two and two together earlier by noticing that something was up when Dean made no attempts to stand up, or move from his position on the ground. Not any more. What with Dean passing out and now in obvious pain and looking five shades too pale and sweating like he'd just run a marathon the EMT suspected something was definitely awry.

After a quick visual examination the EMT noticed Dean's bloodied jean's leg. However he hoped that because Dean hadn't until now appeared to be in a great deal of pain that the damage was only minor. "How about I take a look at you, ok? Just take it easy. What is it? Your leg?"

"No… you gotta help Sam," Dean tried to object, however the paramedic was pretty much the only thing preventing him from collapsing altogether, with his firm hand on his shoulder to steady his now floundering position.

"Trent's got it all under control, Dean," Steve reassured him. "How about you tell me what's going on with you? You're not ok, are you Dean? Are you hurt?"

"Hmmm… it's nothing… just hurt m'leg… it's ok, you gotta help Sam first. He's not good," Dean grimaced, gulping down the pain, whilst trying to appear perfectly alright.

"Dean, Trent's looking after him." Steve patted Dean's shoulder to reassure him. "Aren't you, Trent? How's he doing?" he queried the other paramedic, to prove his point.

"He's still out, but his vitals are stable," came the reply.

"Dean, that's good. For the time being your brother's doing ok, " Steve said to him, reaching for his wrist and taking his pulse, "and Trent's doing everything he can to help him stay that way."

"So he's ok?" Dean demanded, snatching his hand away; still needing his worries over Sam to be appeased.

"He's doing as well as we can hope, given his injuries," Steve replied, "but I'm a little concerned about you. You want to tell me what's going on?" The EMT was concerned by Dean's rapid pulse and the swiftly growing blood stain just below his knee. "Is it your leg?"

Steve moved to place his hand on Dean's knee, a move that made Dean gasp in trepidation and swat his arm away.

"Umm, yeah." Dean admitted before the EMT could make contact again. Steve took note of his apprehensive response and withdrew his hand. "It's umm… I think its busted," Dean admitted – his damned leg was certainly throbbing up a storm.

"This guy, he attacked you too?" Steve asked, giving Dean a gentle nudge to suggest that he lie down. Then he collected a pair of scissors from his kit and carefully shifted down towards Dean's lower leg. "You wanna tell me what happened?" Steve queried as he started to cut his jeans leg open. "How'd you get hurt?"

"He tossed me," Dean replied, getting nervous as the paramedic neared the site of the injury, "and I landed kinda funny… Aggghh… Sonofabitch!" Dean jack knifed up in screaming agony when the movement of the EMT's tailoring skills shifted his leg. His own abrupt response only compounded the degree of pain.

"Oh crap! Sorry, man." The EMT was amazed when he saw the full extent of the damage. How he could have missed the seriousness of Dean's injuries had him baffled. Dean was right about his leg being busted, only it wasn't just fractured, his tibia had ripped through the skin and was now protruding out through the gory, bloody mess of shredded flesh. Steve reached into his kit and pulled out a small vial, still bewildered by how Dean could so efficiently hide his pain. Although that ability was definitely crumbling. His unexpected patient was now in a shit load of agony, and looking even paler than before. "Try and breathe, Dean, I'll give you something for the pain."

"No!" Dean insisted when he saw the syringe. There was every chance there were more Leviathans lurking about, and he couldn't risk leaving Sam unprotected. "No drugs!"

"Christ, man, you have an open, compound fracture and I'm betting it hurts like hell. You don't have be in pain," he replied, measuring out an adequate dose of morphine.

"Huh? I have a what?" Dean was shocked by the sight of bone _– his bone_ – jutting out through a three inch gash just below his knee. And damned if his pain threshold didn't just plummet to rock bottom by the very sight of it! God he was really going to puke now, or pass out! Or both! "No, no drugs," he insisted. The guy had no idea the kind of hurting Hell could dish out: but Dean knew all too well. And he sure as hell could handle a busted leg – at least he hoped so.

"Ok, look if you're allergic to anything, if you've had a bad reaction before, let me know what to. I've got a few choices here," Steve informed him, putting the syringe aside and waving his hand over his medical kit. How Dean had coped so far with what had to be excruciating agony he had no idea.

"No, nothing. Just can't," Dean maintained. "No drugs!"

"You understand, there's different stuff I can give you?" Steve gave him a concerned look, wondering if Dean had had a previous drug addiction or the like. No matter what, he had to be sure Dean was adamant about refusing any analgesics, especially when he was now in so much pain.

"Look, no drugs, ok!" Dean insisted, blinking away certain oblivion, still struggling to rope in his uncontrolled pain reflexes. _'Suck it up'_, he told himself, '_breathe through it'_.

"Ok, it's your choice," Steve finally conceded and ripped open a sterile gauze pad. "You just let me know if you change your mind, ok?" Steve hoped he would.

"No, no drugs," Dean panted, pulling his pain back in check, "nothing!"

"Ok, but this may hurt a little." Steve gave him a grave look that conveyed his true meaning - it was going to do more than hurt just a little. Steve had to dress the gory wound.

"Aggghhrrrr! God damned, son-of-a-bitch!" Dean hissed when the paramedic covered the gaping gash. He really could have gone some serious, industrial strength meds and maybe a bottle of whiskey – or two. He was fighting the nauseating pain with all his strength; the urge to puke battling with the growing sensation to pass out again.

"That's it Dean, breathe through it," Steve patted him on the shoulder and gave him a moment to get his shit together.

"What's going on?" Trent queried Steve.

Steve gave Trent an incredulous gaze and shook his head. "Can you believe this guy's got an open tibia fracture over here," he queried. Dean gave the other EMT a brief, sheepish glance, with an expression that read something along the lines of 'go figure'. Then he moaned and slumped to the ground, willing himself not to be defeated by the overwhelming pain.

"What?" Trent replied, "seriously, a compound fracture?" He was just as surprised as Steve that not only was Dean also injured, but that they had two patients. "Freaking Dispatch, can't relay the correct information for shit!" he muttered – one patient, that's all they'd been told.

"How's he doing?" Steve queried his partner, wondering how their other patient was fairing.

"After his last episode?" Trent shook his head, amazed by Sam's violent outburst. "He's still unresponsive, and I'm not liking the length of unconsciousness. BP's still rising," he relayed back to his partner.

Dean's head whipped around, the paramedic's words bouncing around in his head like a warning alarm: Sam wasn't ok. Through the haze of pain he wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He took several deep breaths, pushing his pain aside as best he could to hear the EMTs discussion regarding Sam.

"He's showing signs of intracranial pressure," Trent informed Steve gravely.

Dean knew just by the way Trent had relayed the information that whatever it was that he'd said about Sam, it wasn't good. He struggled to stay focused, everything was a blurry, disjointed haze. He wanted to demand that Steve explain what was wrong with Sam but his mouth was bone dry and he couldn't quite formulate any coherent words around his panting breath and pounding heart.

"We're gonna have to get him on the bus ASAP," Trent continued.

_'Shit!'_ Dean's concerns exploded instantly. Something was definitely not good. Dean jerked upwards as he made a move to sit once more, to check on Sam for himself. Or at least to demand an explanation as to Sam's condition, however shifting so abruptly proved the wrong move and he was floored by the explosion of pain that erupted up his leg. "Arrrgh!" he hissed.

Steve's hand was instantly on Dean's shoulder again, with his concerned gaze hovering over him. "Dean, mate, you've gotta lie still," he urged him. Then his attention returned to Trent. "I've got to stabilize this fracture first, before he manages to further antagonize the injury. I'm going to have to make sure he doesn't try to up and walk, fracture or no fracture. Can you get the gurney's out? "

"Yeah," Trent replied, rechecking Sam's oxygen mask before heading back to the ambulance. "Full length splint?"

"Yeah," Steve replied, returning his attention back to Dean. "Ok Dean, let's…"

"Intracranial what?" Dean gasped, finally finding his breath, "what's that mean… what's wrong… with Sam?"

"Mean's your brother's suffered a head injury and we need to get him to hospital."

"What? That's bad, isn't it? Really bad. Shit, what the hell are you waiting for?" Dean demanded, struggling against Steve's firm grip on his shoulder. "Get him to the damned hospital!"

"Well, first we gotta get you sorted out." Steve wasn't about to let him try and move again.

"No, you gotta take him, I'm ok," Dean insisted, still trying to sit up. "Please, we gotta go."

"We will, but first we have to take care of you too," Steve pushed him back down.

"I'm fine, really, let's go," Dean insisted, still struggling to be on their way.

"Sorry, but no you're not." Steve continued to hold him down. "We're not going anywhere until you're both stable and prepped for transport," Steve replied. "So, are you hurt anywhere else?"

"What, no," Dean lied. In reality everything was starting to ache. His shoulder hurt and his ribs protested his every breath. He'd hit that car like sledge hammer. "Just make sure Sam's ok!"

"We are, and the quicker you co-operate with me the quicker we can be on the road." The EMT began removing Dean's jacket, and without even thinking about what was happening Dean helped him. "So let's just try it again, shall we? Fill me in here, where's it hurt?" Steve wasn't really believing Dean's continuing denials of pain, not after seeing the damage to his leg. And to prove the paramedic's assessment correct, Dean hissed in pain when he pressed against his bruised ribs. "Uh, hum… hurt when you breathe?"

"Yeah, maybe… I guess so," Dean moaned, wrapping his hand over the right side of his chest, resigned to at least admit to the worst of his aches and pains. "Seriously, nothing else." Steve seemed pretty adamant about bussing both Winchesters to the hospital, so the quicker he got this over with the better – he wasn't about to delay Sam's need for an ER by so much as a second. Steve's examination extended down to his abdomen, and Dean was surprised to find that there was a spot just above his hip bone that was more than a little tender too.

Trent returned with a splint and one of the gurneys. "How're we looking?"

"Fractured tibia, possible fractured fibula, contusions to ribs and lower abdomen, but vitals are stable," Steve replied, squeezing Dean's shoulder as he replied, "but he's refusing any kind of analgesia."

"What?" Trent knelt down by Steve's side to help splint his leg. "Hey, Buddy, we got some good stuff," he informed Dean.

"No," Dean hissed, fighting the urge to give in to the EMT's suggestion. The pain was so intense he was struggling to think straight.

"Dean," Steve said to him, "I hate to tell you this but we have to splint your leg, and its gonna hurt, I mean really…"

"Hurt like a fucking bitch? Yeah, I get it!" Dean snapped back. "I just want you to get my brother to the freaking hospital, so do whatever you have to!"

"Dean…" Steve sighed, fighting a losing battle, but trying none-the-less, "after we splint your leg we have to get you onto a gurney. Trust me, you're going to want _something_."

"NO! Damn it, no!" Dean screamed at him. Did the paramedic not get that Sam had to be in a hospital like now! Why the hell was he arguing with him? "Just do it and stop wasting time!"

"Ok, ok. We'll be as careful as we can," Steve nodded to his partner, motioning him to slip the splint under Dean's leg. "Here we go…" Steve braced his leg with his huge hands, keeping the fractured limb as immobile as he could as Trent carefully slipped the splint under.

"ARRGGGHHHH!" Dean shot bolt upright with the pain, with fists clenched ready to deck both EMTs.

"Ok, ok, Dean, take it easy," Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and eased him back down. "Worst's over. Breath, ok, in and out… that's it, breathe through it."

Dean let rip with a string of expletives that would have made a lumberjack blush. He went a bit vague after that, lost in a suffocating haze of pain, but not really noticing as the EMT secured the splint straps over his leg. There was another eruption of pain when the paramedics gently lifted him up onto the gurney, however the sensation melded with the already ongoing agony into one long episode of endurance. Still he battled to keep his wits about him, to ensure Sam was safe, staving off unconsciousness with sheer determination.

Full cognition didn't really return until both he and Sam were in the ambulance, with Trent sitting in between them both. And the EMT was talking on his two way… something about Sioux Falls General. And Dean knew there was something he should remember about that… he just couldn't fight the pain long enough to remember what it was.

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><p>TBC<p>

Please read and review, it's cookies and warm milk for the soul and some small consolation for not actually owning either of the Winchesters.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I'm guessing anyone actually taking the time to read this is tag, is by now, muttering something along the lines of _'when %$ &#** is she going to get to the point of this whole story?'_ I did, after all mention in the summary that I was wondering about the grazes and bruises that had magically appeared on Dean's face somewhere between 7.02 Hello Cruel World and 7.03 The Girl Next Door. And I am getting to that.**

_**So FINALLY…**_

* * *

><p>Usually the gentle rocking and swaying of a vehicle lulled Dean into a sense of safety and security – had ever since home ceased to be a house in Lawrence, Kansas, and was replaced by a sleek, black Chevy Impala. Not this time. Every bump and turn, even the constant vibration of travel sent shockwaves of pain erupting up through his leg.<p>

He was in Hell all over again.

Dean was almost content to allow the pain to tip him over the edge into unconsciousness. In fact he would have welcomed the relief, except that Sam was still more out of it than not. Sam had come to a few times, moaning softly and staring off into oblivion like he was stoned or something, but never really showing any kind of awareness. Trent had reassured Dean that it was probably a good sign, at least that he was semi-conscious. Dean just wanted him to stay that way.

"Come on Sam, wake up man," he urged his brother, fighting to remain conscious himself.

All he could do was focus on Sam, and Sam alone, in hopes that concentrating on him would also block out his pain. Pain that had been relentless and unwavering, and not in the least submitting to his sheer determination for it to subside. So he lay there muttering continually to his brother, trying to have him wake up and return his resolute focus. But every bump in the road, every turn was blasting him with more pain that at times had his vision black out. So he wasn't quite sure he'd actually heard right when he blinked away the wooziness of another near black-out.

"Yeah, I've got two males. One with head trauma, one with an open, compound, tibia fracture, on route to Sioux Falls," the EMT relayed on his two-way radio.

"Huh?" Dean muttered, not sure he could believe his distorted awareness. "D'ya say?" He dragged his groggy gaze from Sam and stared up at the EMT. He attempted to blink away the harassing pain, tried to fight the increasing nausea and the threat of unconsciousness, to concentrate on the conversation the paramedic was having with whoever was on the other end of his two-way radio. However by the time he could get everything into focus the EMT was busy replacing Sam's oxygen mask with a nasal cannula. Maybe he hadn't heard anything at all, maybe it was just the pain and Sam's condition making him hear stuff – kind of like Sam seeing Lucifer all the time…

He figured the pain was probably making him all loopy and light headed. That and a tight left-hand turn. The paramedics had his leg pretty well immobilized in a splint, but even the slightest movement sent eruptions of pain hammering up his leg. Dean yelped in pain again when the ambulance took the sharp corner and his leg shifted and twisted ever so slightly.

"Come on buddy, let me give you something for the pain," Trent urged Dean, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze in encouragement, "trust me, you'll thank me for it. We're not gonna give you any medals for self-inflicted suffering."

"Gotta make sure Sam's ok first." Dean explained. "Can't knock me out."

"I can give you something that'll just take the edge off. Ok?" the EMT urged, "something mild, something that's not going to knock you out."

After the initial adrenalin high had worn off – pretty much at the same time the ambulance had finally turned up – the pain from his busted leg had hit him like a freight train, accompanied by a decent dose of shock after actually seeing bone jutting out of his upper calf. How he'd managed to drag Sammy's lifeless, gargantuan ass as far as he had, he had no idea. But he'd flatly refused all offers of pain relief. With the Leviathan obviously lurking around – and Dean had no doubt they were the ones responsible for torching Bobby's house – he had to keep watch. So he'd refused the pain meds, because he had to keep Sam safe and to do that he had to keep himself conscious.

Now they were safely tucked away in the ambulance, well away from the Leviathan. Sam was going to get the help he needed. And, Dean realized, he was dangerously close to actually passing out from the pain. And he couldn't afford to pass out – again.

Another turn, and a pot hole later and Dean had practically embedded his fingernails into the gurney permanently. He gasped in agony, and blinked away the growing cloud of black swamping his vision. And then the darkness won, if only for a minute or two.

He came back to with a start, shocked by the bright lights of the ambulance and Trent leaning over him with a concerned scowl on his brow. "Hey, Dean, you with me?" he asked, taking his pulse. "That's it, Dean, breathe, nice and slow."

"Happened?" Dean moaned, wondering how long he'd been out.

"You fought the pain, but the pain won," Trent explained, "Dean seriously, you don't have to be in so much agony. You want to make sure your brother's ok don't you? Can't do that when you pass out with the pain."

Unfortunately, Dean had to finally admit defeat. Trent was right. Dean gave the EMT a token smile, and finally followed the guy's advice. He nodded in acquiescence. "Won't knock me out?" he asked – because he had to be sure.

"No, make you a little light headed maybe, but it won't knock you out," The EMT promised him. "Just enough to take the edge off, all right?"

"Just dull the pain?" That's all he needed, just enough to keep him conscious and coherent.

"Yeah, " Trent replied, "it won't take it away completely, but it'll sure make you a hell of lot more comfortable. You don't have to keep suffering like this."

Another bump in the road and another explosion of pain finally tipped Dean over his pain threshold. "Yeah, ok." All of a sudden Dean couldn't wait for the pain to stop. Trent couldn't give it to him fast enough! Dean watched in anticipation as the paramedic measured out a dose of the analgesic into a syringe. Trent folded the blanket back across his chest whilst Dean offer up his arm.

Dean winced with the initial sting of the drugs as Trent gave him the injection, but welcomed the relief a few minutes later. The sensation was akin to the heavens opening up and shining down on him as a wave of serene nothingness washed over him. As his pain subsided he could feel as it was replaced by a slightly light-headed numbness seeping through his body. Just like the EMT had promised the pain wasn't gone completely, but thankfully the residual ache was bearable. He cursed himself for not having relented earlier.

"Hmmm… 's good stuff," Dean admitted, realizing that he actually felt more lucid, now that his consciousness wasn't mired by pain.

"Sure is." The EMT patted his shoulder again to congratulate him for his smart decision. Both the EMT and Dean resumed their concerned vigil over Sam when he gave a soft moan before blinking lethargically, and coming groggily back to. Trent immediately checked his vital signs again, looking concerned by Sam's rising blood pressure.

Sam struggled to open his eyes, the bright light sending sharp shards of pain into his skull. A constant squealing noise was hacking through his pounding head like a chainsaw – a siren maybe. He had absolutely no recollection of what had happened, his memory was entirely shattered. All he knew was that his head felt like it had been smashed open, his brains put through a meat-mincer and then shoveled back into his skull. Fuck it hurt! But as his eyelids obstinately fluttered open Dean's face came into focus and he knew he was ok.

He was lying on his back, covered with a blanket and everything was rocking like they were in motion. An ambulance he figured, which accounted for the wailing siren and the cool breeze of oxygen up his nose.

"Sam, stay with me, you hear?" Dean commanded, hoping this time Sam would heed his order. Sam had come to several times only to fade away just as quickly.

Trent checked Sam's pupils and immediately looked anxious. Dean sensed the EMT's growing apprehension only to have them confirmed when the paramedic relayed his concerns on the two-way. "Male, late twenties, head trauma. Signs of intracranial pressure."

Dean almost felt relieved when Sam gave him a momentary gaze, with what looked like recognition – maybe this time he really would stay with him. But then Sam's eyes widened in terror and glared towards the back of the ambulance. Dean couldn't see what it was that his brother saw, but chances were it was Lucifer, still plaguing him, even now, even with his head all scrambled…

Sam, although groggy was mesmerized by movement down by his feet. He looked up to see Lucifer standing over him, glaring smugly down at him. _'Hey, so maybe I'm not real. Nobody's perfect. And I'm not going anywhere, Sam.' _Lucifer shrugged his shoulders and smirked with pleasure.

_'NO!'_ Sam thought, panicking, as images of being caged with the fallen angel in hell and every torture Lucifer had ever inflicted upon him flashed before his eyes. His breath caught in his throat and his heart rate escalated in terror and then everything tunneled in around him. Briefly he felt his muscles tense with painful cramps and then everything blacked out.

Dean could only look on in horror as Sam started to seize. "Sam? Sammy!" Who needed pain killers when the mere adrenalin and shock of seeing your brother go rigid and convulse totally obliterated all awareness of injury. Talk about sobering up in an instant! He didn't need to be told that Sam's condition was dire.

Then the paramedic confirmed his fears when he relayed the information to whomever he was communicating with on his two-way, "Yeah, he's seizing. Copy that. We're just pulling into Sioux Falls."

"Sioux Falls? Sioux Falls General?" and now Dean really panicked. _Sioux Falls General!_ Exactly the one place he knew they really shouldn't be going to, not after Bobby confirmed they had a healthy outbreak of Leviathan setting up their own gourmet all-you-can-eat buffet there. "No, no, no. No, you gotta take us somewhere else, anywhere. Please."

The paramedic gave Dean an incredulous glance, amazed by how pain and medication could screw with people's heads. "Yeah, okay, buddy," he humored his latest patient and then Trent began to check Sam's vitals again.

Dean could see that the guy wasn't taking him seriously. He slammed his head back against the pillow in frustration. He had to get them the hell outta there. He had to save Sam, because Sam sure as hell couldn't save himself. His seizure may have stopped, but instead he was back to being flat-out unconscious again. Dean tried to sit up, in order to get himself and Sammy the hell out of there.

"Hey, stop it!" the paramedic slapped his hand over Dean's chest and prevented him from moving. "Lie back down, you don't want to go falling onto the floor, do you?"

"I… we gotta go!" If he could get himself up he could drag his screwed up brother to safety – he'd done it before.

"You gotta go to the hospital. Your leg is broken, and you've lost a lot of blood. It's ok, the pain meds can make you feel all hyper-emotional. It's ok, you'll be ok. But you're not going anywhere on that leg. Relax, we're almost there."

"No, no, no…" Dean made a last attempt to free himself.

"Calm down, it's ok. We're here now, take it easy," the EMT placed a firm hand on his shoulder and pinned him to the gurney, "you're in good hands."

As the ambulance made its way towards the Emergency Bay, Sam came around again. He was groggy and disorientated, still suffering the draining effects of the seizure. "Hey, Sammy, you with us?" Dean was hopeful that he finally was. "Come on Sam, talk to me."

Sam's eyes rolled about, clumsily inspecting his surroundings until they fixed on the ambulance roof to his left where Dean was standing above him, grinning down at him like a Cheshire cat.

_'Hey Sammy Boy, nice nap?'_ Dean smirked.

Sam was confused, his gaze dropped downwards from Dean's smug smirk to… to Dean's concerned gaze.

"Sammy? Stay with me, man, stay with me," the Dean beside him said.

Sam's attention yo-yoed from one Dean to the other, knowing at least one of them wasn't really there. It made his head spin, and throb. His brain felt like it was about to explode and ooze out of his ears.

"Sam, look at me!" one of the Deans said, the one lying beside him… where? Where the hell was he again? He just couldn't remember. Wherever it was, it was small, confined, and too damned bright. Sam tugged the blanket off his chest and woozily sat up, getting agitated when his sense of balance escaped him.

"Hey, calm down," some strange guy was telling him, trying to hold him down. "It's ok, you're ok!"

_'Hey, Sammy. You gonna let him get away with that?'_ One of the _Dean's_ demanded. _'You gonna let him push you around, Sammy? Gonna let him hurt you some more, maybe eat you?'_

_Dean_ was right, who the hell was this guy? Sam had no idea, he had no idea where he was, but he sure as hell knew he didn't want to be restrained. "Don't touch me!" Sam managed to swivel around to shove the strange guy away, slamming him into the wall behind.

Dean watched in horror as Sam garnered inhuman strength and managed to swing around and effectively shove the paramedic into the ambulance wall. Trent wasn't exactly knocked out, but he was damned well dazed. Dean knew he had to intervene, he had to calm Sam down before something in his screwed-up noggin really exploded.

"Hey, Sammy, calm down, it's ok!" Dean pleaded, holding a beseeching hand up, "everything's ok."

The other _Dean_ was cheering him on, _'Atta boy, let out the rage, Sammy. Rip his fucking head off!'_

Sam gazed from one Dean to the other, confusion spinning in his head like a carousel. The _Dean_ standing above him was yelling at him. _'Who the hell is he to tell you to calm down, Sammy? Where the hell are they taking you? Bet they're both freaking Big-Mouthed Leviathan… they want to eat your brains Sammy. In fact I think they've already started to… Does your head hurt Sam, from where they gnawed into your skull?'_

Sam grabbed at his pounding head, wished the stabbing ache would just stop so he could think straight… _Fuck! Had they really started to eat his brains?_

The first Dean was trying to reach out and touch him, bending across the small space between them like a freak-show contortionist. Dean, if it really was Dean, had to squirm awkwardly across the gurney to reach him. He hissed as he did so, barely able to move at all and his face scrunched up in a grotesque, scowling moan. And Sam knew: his Dean didn't move like that, his Dean was all fluid and sublime, not stilted and confined like this. And his brother never looked at him like that, not with an expression that oozed with panic and pain and so much emotion…

"No!" Sam's gaze darted about the ambulance in a panicked frenzy.

Dean saw the terror welling in his brother and the telling signs that Sam was about to explode. Sam's mouth pinched tight and he had a look in his eye that Dean knew all too well meant that his baby brother was about to go postal.

With his injured leg pushed to the back of his thoughts Dean hoisted the cumbersome splint off the gurney, wincing when it thudded to the floor and sent a sharp blast of hurt up his leg. He hissed in pain but continued his endeavor and reached across to his brother. He grabbed a firm hold of Sam's shirt just as much to pin his brother down as to keep himself from falling completely onto the ambulance floor. "Hey, it's ok Sam, it's ok!" he tried to pacify his brother, whilst wrestling him back down onto the gurney.

"Get away! You're not him!" Sam yelled, trying to pry his brother's hands from his shirt and thrashing about whilst Dean tried to keep him still. "Don't, don't touch me!"

"It's me, Sam!" Dean screamed back at him, "it's me! I'm right here, Sam! Stone number one, remember Sam?"

_'No, I'm right here Sam!'_ the other _Dean_ said, bending over the first Dean and making a grossed-out expression, _'I'm stone number one! Right here. Seriously, look at him, he's a Black-goo-oozing Big Mouth… Or maybe he's Lucifer doing a damned awful impersonation!'_

Sam glared up at him in terror. Everything was wrong. And his head hurt, and it made thinking so much harder. All he knew was that something was wrong – really, really wrong. Someone, or something was in his head, screwing with his thoughts and pulverizing his brain. One _Dean_ was standing by the gurney by his feet, laughing in amusement. _'Oh, now that's not me, so who can it be? He's gonna try and kill you Sam, otherwise he'd let you go.'_ And he was right there, this other Dean was practically on top of him, holding him down. Surely it couldn't be Dean, not his Dean. His Dean wouldn't try to pin him down like this. Sam didn't know if either of them was really Dean. Maybe neither of them were. Dean's grip on his shoulder tightened, and he was yelling something at him, only Sam couldn't quite make out what over the rushing of blood in his ears. Was Dean really going to eat him? Eat his brains out? No, he didn't have a huge gapping mouth… Lucifer, it had to be Lucifer, screwing with his head again.

He knew one way to find out. See if he bled black goo…

"NO!" Sam screamed, smacking his fist into the side of his captor's face, knocking the Dean impersonator senseless.

With only one functioning leg and a shit load of pain erupting from the other, Dean was easily beaten down onto the floor. He remained half-frozen in an agonized state of shock and unable to protect himself. Before he could peel himself up off the ground, a second blow pummeled into the side of his head, smashing his cheek into the floor. It was followed by another, and another and then oblivion swallowed him whole.

Sam's blinding rage exploded like a time bomb.

And the other _Dean_ was cheering him on. _'Atta boy, Sammy, bash his brains in! Kill the fucker!'_ _Dean_ was laughing, enjoying every blow he laid into the first Dean. Dean who was still out for the count and now bleeding… Red, he bled red – so not a Leviathan. Must mean he was Lucifer, it had to be Lucifer, screwing with his head again! And it hurt: really, really hurt. His head was going to explode! He had to stop him. He had to kill him. This was the first time he'd been able to lay a hand on the douche bag, or shut the fucker up! Lucifer, asshat that he was, actually thought he could masquerade around with Dean's face again – only he showed him! Finally Lucifer was out cold!

"Jesus!" the stranger cried out, having come back to his senses. The man in uniform grabbed Sam by the arm. Before he could fight him off again, Sam felt a slight pinch in his bicep and everything started to grow hazy. The other _Dean_ blinked in and out like a poorly tuned television station, still laughing victoriously until he disappeared altogether.

Sam forgot why he was on the offensive, except that he knew something was wrong… he just wasn't quite sure what it was.

Drug-induced unconsciousness finally subdued the panicked hunter.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Dean gazed up through a foggy haze. Above him were some incredibly bright lights – way too bright. Everything was hazy and blurry-like, all muddled and weird. Some men were standing over him… it was like three guys that all looked exactly the same, and then they all kind of blurred in together, like they were one and the same_. 'Huh!'_ They were all even wearing the same glasses.

And there was talking, not that he could really make out what was being said.

_'Coming around… stand by on…' _

And on the other side, some other guy was standing over him too. What the hell was going on?

_'Hold him down…'_

"Hey," Dean muttered, wanting to find out where he was.

_'Three… two… one… set!'_

"Aaaaaargh!" _Fuck that hurt!_ Dean sat bolt upright when they tried to rip his leg off, pretty sure they'd succeeded. Clarity returned in an instance with the brick wall of pain that crashed down upon him.

"Nurse," some woman in white called out. At the same time the blurry figures by his side manhandled him back down onto the bed.

_Crap, he'd kill 'em! He'd kill them all… and fuck his leg hurt!_

"Just relax,'" the woman said to him, kind of ordered him actually. She had a white coat on, with an ID card swinging off the pocket. She looked all important. Doctor maybe. And she was messing with his leg, or what was left of it.

_What the hell were they doing, and why… and… _"Where am I?" Dean muttered, his mouth felt all dry and tasted peculiar and yet strangely familiar.

"You're at the hospital," she replied.

_Yep, that's what it tasted like – hospital._ "Which one?" Dean had to know and he had a really bad feeling about just which one.

"Sioux Falls General."

_Yep, a really, really bad feeling!_ He had to go, had to find… and then there was an icy chill running up his arm. He glanced to his left, and what was that guy doing? The orderly, or the nurse, whoever the hell he was, was injecting something into a tube… into an IV line and… and it was attached to his arm… and it kind of made him feel… weird… and all woozy again...

_No way! Fucking morphine! _

"Where's my brother? We got to go," Dean muttered. Anywhere but Sioux Falls. He had to go before the opiate kicked in.

"He bashed his head quite seriously," the doctor replied, "he's gone up for an MRI."

_'Fuck!'_ Sammy was having a head scan! Man the jokes he'd be able to… wait a minute – Sam! He had to go… they had to… and, he was getting all lightheaded. Where was he again? Dean gazed up at the woman again. She looked like she should be nice, despite the prim and proper attire and the professional hair-style. Was she going to eat him now? Maybe she was planning on starting with his leg…

"Ok. I got to go," Dean tried to escape the 'touchy-feely' orderlies that continued to try and hold him down. Only they were so much stronger than he was. The guy with the identical twin brothers beside him slammed him back down onto the bed. Dean was really gonna kill him… them.

"You're not going anywhere on this leg, buddy. Relax," the doctor informed him, checking the pulse to his foot

Dean gazed down at his leg, the one they'd tried to rip off… _'Huh!'_ It looked like it was still there. That was good, meant he could go find Sammy… get the hell outta there…"Aargh…" If only he could… "Ummm…" He'd just have to… and… just… in a minute… so nice and warm… and soft… and… man those lights are really bright… damned that morphine was good!

Everything lost its edge, the talking was all muddled again and the pain evaporated. The lights dimmed and then all there was, was the pitch black darkness of oblivion…

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><p><strong>THE END<strong>

**Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed my take on some missing scenes between 'Hello Cruel World' and 'The Girl Next Door'.**

**Chrissymi.**


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